


The Last Place You Look

by fencesit



Category: Psych
Genre: All Agree To Marriage For Both Urgent Practical Reasons And Love - One Doesn’t Realize/Believe This, Case Fic, Denial, First Kiss, M/M, POV Burton 'Gus' Guster, Pining, Reality TV, References to s03e13 "Lights Camera... Homicidio", Sharing a Bed, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencesit/pseuds/fencesit
Summary: When Shawn started them down the thrilling, dangerous road of psychic detecting, he'd predicted this. "Gus," he'd said, "everything you need is right in front of you. You just have to pay attention."(Or: Gus' love of reality TV means he can't say no when Shawn signs them up to star onLast Look at Love.)





	The Last Place You Look

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/gifts).



> With apologies to _Love It Or List It_ and thanks to my recip for the great request.

It starts when Gus is supposed to be working and, as usual, it starts with death. "There's been," Shawn says, and then pauses for dramatic effect. 

Gus waits. He's the only person in the room, so he doesn't have to wait long. 

"...a murder!" Shawn finishes, with an unnecessary dramatic flourish. 

''Oh!" someone says at the door. So maybe the drama wasn't just for Gus. 

Shawn and Gus both turn, in sync, to look at the door. 

Kathy is there, holding a stack of papers, probably the ones meant to get Gus caught up on the new antifungal he's supposed to be pushing. She looks tremendously upset, which is just proof that Shawn should stop loudly announcing murder. 

"No, no, don't worry. Everything's fine, we're on the case." Shawn uses that incredibly gentle tone of his. The really unfair one that makes a person feel like all their troubles are just melting away. "Shh, here, let me take those from you. You go sit down, relax, have a soothing cup of Lapsang Souchong." 

Kathy nods, lets Shawn pry the paperwork out of her hands, and drifts away down the hall towards the break room. 

"Shawn, no one drinks Lapsang Souchong to be soothed. It's a black tea. She should have something herbal." 

"All tea is soothing because it's so _boring_ , Gus, but that's not the point. Weren't you listening? Murder!" Shawn pinches his thumb and forefinger together on each hand and pulls his hands apart as he draws the word out, long and slow, with pointed enunciation. _Murrrrrrr-der._ When that doesn't move Gus, he flings an arm in the direction of the break room. "What will Phyllis—" 

"Stop making names up for people. Her name is Kathy." 

"—What will _Kathy_ think if we let this case go unsolved?" Shawn slams his hands down on the table. "Think of your reputation around the office, Gus. People will start stealing your lunch if they think you're letting criminals walk free." 

"HR has serious rules against food thieves," Gus says, but even as he says it he knows he's already lost this argument. 

After all, the police have serious rules against murder and _that_ never stops anyone. 

* * *

Shawn's directions direct them out of Santa Barbara proper and down the coast to a sprawling resort that Gus is a little surprised is still inside SBPD's jurisdiction. There are a good two dozen buildings, including a main hotel, stables, a spa, and more than a dozen private bungalows. It's outside of one of these bungalows that they see several cop cars, resort security golf carts, and the county coroner's van, as well as Lassiter's car. 

Gus parks and they approach. There are two dead bodies, it turns out, but Gus is in luck today: they've arrived so late to the scene that both of the bodies are packed away into body bags and already being wheeled out of the bungalow. Shawn will have to get his hands on the crime scene photos if he wants to see how they were laid out, but Gus knows that won't be hard to arrange. Really, they should try showing up late to _every_ crime scene. 

After they've wiggled their way past the throng of cops and reams of crime scene tape, Gus finds that, actually, the bodies being gone doesn't make the crime scene any less gruesome because two people were definitely bludgeoned to death in the bungalow's bedroom, which can just barely been seen through an open set of doors. Lassiter is in there, half-crouched over some poor forensics guy, condescending to him about his bagging technique. Juliet is in the living room/kitchen at the front of the bedroom, making notes while a man in a suit talks, because she's a hard-working, diligent employee. Very detail oriented, very responsible. 

(Sometimes Gus feels like maybe Shawn has a type.) 

"Jules! The spirits insisted that I come at once," Shawn says when she looks up and notices them. 

Juliet clearly she wants to smile but feels she has to be professional. She looks down at her notes. "Did the chief call you in?" 

Shawn lifts one hand to his temple. "I feel strongly that she will, soon, in the future. This case will need us." He drops his hand. "So! We might as well get started now, right?" 

She sighs, but it's indulgent, and she introduces them to the man she's speaking to instead of telling them to get back behind the police tape. She's the best, and Shawn and Gus subtly bump fists to celebrate. 

The man in the suit is the hospitality manager, and therefore directly in charge of guest accommodations. The guest in the beachside bungalow currently being combed over by cops had been Sharon Abbot, a middle aged woman who'd been in town from Oregon to participate in a reality show. The other body belonged to Neil Abbot, her estranged husband, a Santa Barbara local. Neil Abbot had also been set to participate in the reality show, but he hadn't been due to move into the hotel until the next evening, when filming would finally begin. 

"Speaking of which, what's the name of the show?" Juliet asks, her pen poised. 

The manager rubs the back of his neck. "Aw, I don't remember," he confesses. "Some romance show, I guess. Maybe that one where husbands get, like, seduced away from their wives? Trash like that. They've got a lot of activities booked with us, but I don't handle the details of guest engagement. I can get you Chelsea's number, though — that's her job, she'd know what it's called and who to contact." 

There's nothing else to see at the bungalow, so when he and Juliet leave to go to the main building of the hotel, where the manager presumably has his office, Shawn and Gus follow. They pass by the swamped front desk and into a long, employees-only hallway. There's a room with extra housekeeping supplies and toiletries, a break room, and a few doors showing shared office spaces. 

The hospitality manager's office is quite a bit more spacious from the peek Gus gets, but he doesn't enter because when he looks behind him to check that Shawn is still with him, of course he finds that Shawn has wandered off. 

Typical. 

* * *

"—and this is my partner, Guston Burter," Shawn says immediately when Gus finds him. 

He's talking to a woman seated to the side of the hotel lobby, adjacent the front desk. She doesn't look that great, honestly. Maybe it's her first murder. 

This is exactly the kind of thing that gets Gus credited as 'Bruton Gaster' in museum displays. " _Shawn._ " 

"This is Miriah Newman," Shawn goes on, as if Gus hadn't said anything at all. "She's the director for the reality show the Abbots were supposed to be on." 

" _Last Look at Love_ ," Miriah adds. 

"Oh my gosh," Gus says. "Our TiVo is set to record the first episode this Sunday." ("It is?" Shawn asks, but Gus ignores him.) "You moved the filming to Santa Barbara for season 4?" 

Miriah nods. "It was cheaper." She looks miserable — absolutely defeated — and leans forward to put her face in her hands. "Oh, god, what are we going to do — the filming schedule! And the poor _Abbots_." She looks like she's going to be sick. 

Gus isn't sure which of those problems has upset her more, but either way he's overwhelmed with a sudden need for action. _Last Look at Love_ is really, truly a masterpiece. "We'll help," Gus says impulsively. 

"You will?' she asks. 

Maybe Shawn hadn't gotten to the 'psychic detective' part of things yet. Gus improvises: "We're very dedicated to supporting Santa Barbara's film industry." 

"Oh yes," says Shawn. "We love film." 

* * *

" _Last Look at Love?_ ' Shawn asks a little later when they've been chased away from Miriah Newman by an irate Detective Lassiter. Gus is going back to work, and Shawn will take his bike to the police station to continue gathering information to help Miriah. 

"It has a very compelling narrative," Gus defends, although he doesn't know why he bothers. He's never before convinced Shawn of the merits of reality TV, and Shawn's expression plainly says that this time won't be any different. 

At least it means that they don't have to do any research, though. Gus fills the entire car ride with an explanation of the typical format of an episode of _LLL_ : couples who've had their marriage fall apart or who never married for love in the first place spend a whirlwind weekend together trying to capture the spirit of a honeymoon, and then at the end they decide if they'll "love" their spouse still or "leave" them. 

"Oh, like _Love It Or List It_ ," Shawn says. 

"No, _not_ like _Love It Or List It_ ," Gus says. "That show is totally derivative. They should be ashamed of themselves. And anyway, _Last Look At Love_ has real authenticity. The last scene of each episode is filmed live, in front of a studio audience!" 

"They decide whether or not to stay married on _live TV?_ " Shawn asks, horrified. 

"Some people aren't afraid of commitment, Shawn." 

* * *

"I've figured out how we can help Miriah and you're going to love it," Shawn says the moment Gus walks into the Psych office later. Before Gus has even set down the take out, much less distributed it, which is enough to make a man wary. 

"Did Chief Vick hire us?" Gus asks, hopeful but already doubting this theory. 

Shawn waves a careless hand. "No, but it's fine. This is a great opportunity." 

Oh no. Gus approaches the armchairs cautiously, holding the bag with their takeout in front of him like it might shield him from Shawn's latest idea. "Shawn, what did you sign us up to do?" 

"It'll be fine!" Shawn asserts. "We're going undercover!" He brandishes a pamphlet, which Gus takes in return for Shawn's share of jerk chicken. 

_MORNINGSIDE RANCH_ , reads the pamphlet, which Gus holds like it might bite him. The pamphlet goes on to brag: _STUNNING SUNSET VIEWS. BREAKFAST & DINNER INCLUDED. HORSERIDING. PRIVATE BEACH. THREE SWIMMING POOLS. ON-SITE SPA_. There's a white horse ridden by two beautiful white people on the front; behind them is a gorgeous beach and a large, beautiful resort. This is the resort where the Abbots had been murdered. 

Gus drops the pamphlet back into Shawn's lap without opening it. It barely misses the chicken. "I'm _not_ taking you on vacation again." 

"No, Gus—" 

"I'm also not going to be a maid, a waiter, a busboy, a concierge, a bartender, an event planner, a valet, a pool boy, or any other kind of resort employee you can think of," Gus clarifies. 

"We're going to be contestants!" Shawn waves another piece of paper at him. 

Gus snatches it. 

It's a copy of a marriage certificate. For him and Shawn. 

"I've gotten better at forging your signature," Shawn says. He produces a thick stack of papers. "The paperwork is all already in, but here's your copy of the contract for us to appear as a married couple on _Last Look at Love_. I got the county clerk to back date our marriage certificate." 

There's nothing to do but sit down with his chicken and read the contract back to front. 

He's listed over and over again as "Burton Guster-Spencer", a name that sinks straight into his stomach to twist and flutter nervously. Rather than trying to untangle his emotions at the thought of the hyphenated last name, Gus instead focuses on the logistics. 

Basically the rest of the week will be spent in the honeymoon suite at the Morningside Ranch — it's an all-expenses paid vacation, and most of the filming will be done while they relax at the resort and do various activities. It sounds... _nice_ , almost. Except for the part where he and Shawn will be claiming to be an estranged married couple on live television, but... no vacation is perfect, right? 

"It's great, right?" Shawn asks when Gus sets the paperwork aside. 

It's not like it would be the first time they've gone undercover it's just... a little more wild than usual. "Are you sure we need to do this to find out who killed the Abbots?" Gus asks, a little suspiciously. He sometimes suspects Shawn drags him into this kind of thing just to see how he'll react. 

"We need to do it," Shawn says immediately. 

Gus believes him. He goes home to pack. 

* * *

In the afternoon, they'll have to head to the studio to have their start-of-the-episode interview in front of a live audience, but before then they have time to do some actual investigating; after they start filming they're not supposed to leave the resort. Shawn suggest Neil Abbot's townhouse, and Gus agrees with much less reluctance than he used to when Shawn started talking about breaking into some poor dead person's house. 

It's just... gotten normal. Somehow. 

The townhouse itself isn't anything special; it's at one end of a triplex and the sliding door in the back isn't even locked. He and Shawn go through the house together while Gus worries about the coming interview. It won't be broadcast live, but they'll still be put on the spot. Expected to talk about the relationship that they do not, in fact, have. 

"Do you want to hear my marriage vows?" Shawn asks when Gus brings it up. "They're even better than the best man speech I had planned." 

Gus has no doubt that Shawn would actually produce a full set of marriage vows if Gus tried to call his bluff, so it's better to let it lie. Instead, Gus focuses on actually searching the house. As a reward for his trouble, he's the one who finds the make up. 

"There's no way this belonged to Sharon Abbot," Gus says, looking down doubtfully at the pale foundation he's holding. 

There are other feminine products in the bathroom, shoved to the back of drawers. Shawn finds a hair dryer, even though Neil Abbot had absolutely been bald. 

Maybe getting back with his wife hadn't been the simple choice Miriah had made it sound like. 

* * *

The television studio looms in front of them. 

Gus says, "You had better not introduce me as Mrs. Shawn Spencer. I'll walk out. I swear I will." 

"Gus, please, everyone knows I'm the wife." 

" _What?_ Shawn, that's offensive." 

"I'm just _saying_ ," Shawn clarifies, "that in the inevitable real person slash people will write about us on their secret, locked LiveJournals, _I'm_ the one who'll end up pregnant. Don't be jealous." 

"...How do you even know about LiveJournal?" 

"I have a fanclub. They write things." 

Right, the fanclub. Gus... Gus tries to forget about the fanclub. It was probably full of very nice people, mostly, but all of them were very fixated on wanting Shawn to reprise his role as Chad the package delivery guy on _Explosión Gigantesca de Romance_ , and they could be, uh, very passionate about it. 

Gus doesn't understand how Shawn can stand to read their newsletters and blog posts and so on, although he’s at least stopped reading that stuff out loud in the Psych office. 

The first stop inside the television studio is the green room. There are refreshments, which Gus appreciates, and Miriah stops by to thank them profusely for agreeing to be on the show. 

"A couple who's romantically estranged but still works together every day is a very different set-up from out usual," she adds. "Everyone thinks it will be a great episode." 

From there they go to makeup. "Don't worry, honey, all the producers love happy endings on this show," Gus' makeup artist tells him, dabbing just a little foundation on his face. "They'll do their best to make sure y'all chose love." 

Soon after, they're released into the wilds of the television studio and gently herded towards the studio floor until they're standing just out of sight, waiting for the host — a gorgeous woman named Tessa Winters, different from previous seasons — to finish explaining the show and introducing them. 

While Tessa is explaining the "Love or Leave?" choice they'll be faced with at the end of the weekend, Gus peeks out to look at the crowd. The live studio audience, which had been fine during _American Duos_ , is unquestionably different here. Very different. 

Shawn has to prod him into moving into view when Tessa introduces them. The crowd really goes wild for Shawn, including a section of the crowd in the back who cheer their heads off and wave around signs that say things like I LOVE YOU CHAD and CHAD 4 LIFE, CHAD 4 LOVE. 

Gus receives a very polite round of applause, which suits him just fine. 

"Now, you two know each other pretty well, I think..." Tessa says. 

The studio audience laughs. 

"...but the rest of us could use some more in-depth details, so why don't we roll that tape?" 

The "tape" turns out to be about one step above a PowerPoint presentation, probably because no one had had any time to shoot B-roll or badger family members for home movies, and thank god for that. Instead it's just a bunch of pictures from the local newspaper and clips from when they've been on TV — Shawn addressing the press outside the courthouse during the Sandra Panitch case, Shawn on _Explosión Gigantesca de Romance_ , and the two of them on _American Duos_. Tessa provides excellently canned narration. 

Overall, it's definitely nothing that will get Gus fired from Central Coast Pharmaceuticals, and that's probably about all he can ask for. 

* * *

Tessa tries to put them through the wringer with questions intended to test how well they know each other, but the time set aside for that portion of the interview isn't nearly enough and it quickly spirals out of control. 

Gus _knows_ that this is the segment of _Last Look at Love_ where he and Shawn are supposed to be grilled hard until they realize that they've drifted apart, or maybe until they remember that they know each other well, but he and Shawn can't actually manage to fake either of those things. They don't fit the mold of the usual participants, so the usual questions either fall flat or remind them of long-standing and hotly debated arguments. 

Actually, Gus feels bad about it. Tessa is new to hosting _Last Look at Love_ , and he and Shawn are, first of all, unconventional interview subjects for the show and, second of all, lying through their teeth half the time. When their last argument runs down the clock for this segment of the interview and filming stops so that the audience can use the restroom and everyone else can relax for a minute and peruse the craft services table, Gus even means to apologize to her, but she spends the whole time on the phone, arguing with someone about her car. 

He's actually of half a mind to recommend a good mechanic for her, but instead he and Shawn just linger around the craft services table. 

"These meatballs... they're just not as good as Kelly's," Shawn laments, poking the meatballs sadly with a fork. 

"Kelly from craft services tried to kill you, Shawn." 

"Yeah, but Gus, the _meatballs_." 

* * *

"Alright, alright," Tessa says when they're back in front of the cameras. "How about something more personal. Shawn, Gus, when did each of you know you'd spend the rest of your lives together?" 

"Well," Shawn says, "when I was a young warthog..." He pauses for the smattering of laughter from the audience. "...I really just _knew_ , you know? Gus and I have been best friends since we were in the womb. Since before then, really. We were just... _meant_ for each other. I can't think of anyone else I'd be content to spend my life with. That's why I married him, after all." 

Shawn looks at him with this open, kind of gooey expression. It's a little overplayed in Gus' opinion, but the crowd flutters and coos. When Shawn reaches a hand out towards him and opens and closes it in a grabbing motion, Gus obligingly takes hold of it. 

Gus doesn't expect Shawn to hold his hand carefully, sweeping a thumb lightly over Gus' knuckles. He also doesn't expect it to make his stomach swoop, but it does. It really does. Uh oh. 

They're supposed to be _undercover_. Of course they have to sell it a little, but does Shawn have to try so damn hard? 

Tessa presses a hand to her chest. "And how about you, Gus?" 

"It simplifies my taxes," Gus says. "And now we can't be compelled to testify against each other in court." 

Tessa looks taken aback. 

"That's Gus for you," Shawn says with a laugh. He squeezes Gus' hand. "Always thinking about the practical things. What would I do without him?" 

* * *

When the show wraps and the studio audience starts filtering out, Juliet and Lassiter are waiting for them — or rather, for Miriah, because it's clear that they're in that 'reinterview everyone' stage of the investigation and of course Miriah can't be pried from the production control room while the cameras are still on. 

Gus looks at Shawn. Shawn looks back at him. Gus realizes that they're still holding hands, but when he tries to subtly yank his hand away, Shawn's fingers cling to him with surprising strength. "Undercover husbands," Shawn hisses at him, and Gus has to concede to that point; the cameras are off but that doesn't mean this is _over_. 

So he and Shawn have to just make their way off the studio floor, winding around cameras and cords, and face the music without straying too far from each other. 

Lassiter and Juliet look blankly at Shawn and Gus' still linked hands. 

Gus' palm flexes involuntarily against Shawn's. Is his palm sweaty? His palm seems sweaty. Shawn's fingers flex and twist but rather than pulling away they just rearrange themselves into a slightly looser, more comfortable grip. 

"You're married?" Juliet looks hurt. "Neither of you ever mentioned..." 

"It's—" Gus starts to say, but Shawn cuts him off with quick squeeze of the hand. 

"It's an open relationship," Shawn says. "We're very modern." 

"Uh, yeah, that," Gus says. Apparently they're lying to their co-workers, too. For some reason. 

"I _knew it!_ " Lassiter says. Gus can't decipher the emotions going on in his face and doesn't really want to. 

Juliet only has eyes for Shawn, though. They'd almost had something — Gus had been pretty sure it would happen. Actually, he'd kind of been waiting for that shoe to drop for awhile. Or, not _drop_ ; that was the wrong idiom. Gently, inevitably descend? No, that was too ominous still. 

Gus had tried not to think too much about it. It hadn't _really_ seemed like his business, since there was absolutely nothing objectionable about Juliet O'Hara. The opposite, really. 

She studies Shawn's face; her eyes tail down to their linked hands. "I guess it wasn't really any of my business..." Juliet trails off. 

"Ah, yeah, I didn't know how to tell you I was..." Shawn pauses. "Doublesexual." 

Gus tsks at him. "It's _bisexual_ , Shawn." You should know better, he tries to communicate wordlessly. 

Shawn grins at him. 

Oh, Gus has walked _right_ into this one. 

"I've heard it both ways." Shawn's eyes dart to Juliet, pulling her into the joke. 

Juliet cracks a grin. 

"Can we please do our jobs now?" asks Lassiter, using his pen to point across the studio floor at the door to the production control room, where Miriah is hovering, talking to someone while keeping half an eye on her contestants and the police. 

Shawn glances between Lassiter and Gus and Miriah. He squeezes Gus' hands. "Sure, Lassie, knock 'em out. Not literally. Jules, don't let Lassie get overexcited and knock out anyone who doesn't really deserve it. Chief Vick hates that." 

"Oh, I'll keep an eye on him," Juliet promises. 

Lassiter stalks off without acknowledging that little exchange at _all_ , which is probably for the best. 

Suddenly, but firmly, Juliet adds: "I'm glad you two look so happy." She claps her hands in front of her, momentarily flustered by her own words, and then says, "...but Carlton is right, we do have a double homicide to investigate." 

"We'll let you go," Shawn says magnanimously. "But Jules? I'm sensing... Neil Abbot had... another woman." He wiggles his eyebrows but doesn't otherwise go into any theatrics. 

Odd. 

Juliet clearly thinks so too, a puzzled expression settling over her face, but she thanks Shawn and then catches up to Carlton, who's already jabbing his pen at Miriah, trying to find some kind of hole in her story. 

Gus doesn't realize they're still holding hands until he has to let go to drive to the hotel. 

* * *

The honeymoon suite is just as beautiful as Gus had imagined, which is wonderful. What he hadn't imagined — what _isn't_ wonderful — is: "There's only one bed." 

"Huh," says Shawn. 

"It's a honeymoon suite," Miriah says, watching the DOP carefully adjust a large light while she checks the light meter she's holding. "What did you expect?" 

The other people scattered around the suite have a wide variety of items: a bag of rose petals, fresh flowers in vases, a hand-held steamer that's being used to take wrinkles out of various fabrics, thick black paper and painter's tape for the windows, and various other accoutrements for setting the scene. Gus is pretty sure that the candles are some kind of code violation, but they do provide a nice ambiance once the window is blacked out. 

It's all a rank betrayal of the art of the docudrama, but given that Gus is pretending to be married to Shawn it's not like he can throw stones. He'll just have to silently eat his words about the 'authenticity' of _Last Look at Love_. 

"You're not going to film us sleeping, right?" Gus asks. A man has his limits. 

Miriah glances up from her light meter."Would you let us?" 

"Yes," Shawn says. "Absolutely." 

"No," Gus says emphatically. 

"No," Shawn corrects himself. 

Miriah looks actually disappointed. "That's a shame. Alright, one of you come over here and open the champagne." 

* * *

Shawn drags Gus down onto the loveseat and pours the champagne. Shawn has exactly the right technique down to twist the bottle and not spill a drop of champagne. He must have learned that while tending bars or catering weddings or waiting tables or in one of a million other odd jobs. 

He teases Gus about the best man speech he's had written for years ("But I never got to use it," he laments.) and ignores the cameras and keeps suggesting worse and worse options for their 'first date', dragging Gus into a fake argument he thought they'd dropped after filming at the studio had finished. But then, of course Shawn likes to get under his skin, and knows exactly the kind of first date to suggest to get Gus riled up 

"Are you sure? Not the carnival?" Shawn asks innocently. "What about that time, with the—" 

"No, no, no and no," Gus says. "Have you ever been on a date before?" 

"I'm beginning to wonder," Shawn says. 

He seems to be studying Gus seriously, just then, and Gus doesn't manage to shoot anything back before Miriah wants them to fuss around with unpacking, which doesn't really involve any packing. 

The last thing they do for the camera is pretend to fall asleep on the giant king bed several times — B-roll to show time passing in the show when they start editing it all together, Miriah explains. They have to change into their pajamas. They have to awkwardly negotiate who gets which side of the bed while Miriah and her crew watch, and then they both have a very significant pause when it comes to actually doing anything more than laying on the bed looking at each other, carefully not touching. 

"Great," Miriah says, after a few minutes have passed and Gus has thought to turn out the lights. They have to get out of the bed. An assistant steams the sheets free of wrinkles. They have to do it again. 

It doesn't really get more comfortable, but Miriah gently coaxes them into lying closer and closer together. At the end of it, Gus even lays his head on Shawn's chest and wonders if the wild pulse he can feel rabbiting in his head and throat is Shawn's or his own. 

Gus doesn't know why he let Shawn talk him into it. 

* * *

The production crew has to clean up the honeymoon suite before it can be officially handed over, so Gus and Shawn are hustled back into their day clothes and out into the evening light. Dinner at the resort hotel is free with their stay, and it's nice to have more time alone. Although... maybe not _too_ much time alone. 

"They might not be done cleaning up yet," Gus suggests, thinking of the room as he'd last seen it: swarming with people, lit by candlelight and filming equipment, rose petals scattered on the floor, and Shawn lounging on the bed, waiting for him to finish changing... 

They couldn't possibly be done cleaning up already. Dinner service had been too quick. And it's not that Gus _likes_ breaking into places, but investigating crimes usually does call for it and it's probably best not to put it off. "We could look at the security footage from the night the Abbots were murdered," he finds himself adding. 

So they bluff their way into the Morningside Ranch's security room. It's embarrassingly easy, actually. 

There's plenty of footage to go through, too, so it's even worth it. Sharon Abbot had arrived several days before her murder, dropped off by a hotel airport shuttle. She spends much of her time at the ranch, takes a few taxis, and mostly just... seems normal. The night of the murder, they find Neil Abbot arriving, waiters smoking in the parking lot, a woman who drops her keys down a gutter. For about the first ten minutes Gus manages to focus on the screens in front of them, but eventually Gus is distracted. 

See, Shawn's reflection is clear in the screen they're looking at. His eyes flick around the screen, following the Abbots, taking note of more detail than Gus would ever pick up, and it's more entertaining to watch than footage of the late Mrs. Abbot drinking at the ranch's beachside bar. 

Actually, Gus can be honest with himself: it's fascinating. He's fascinated. Shawn _isn't_ psychic, he's just smart and observant and that competence is _very_ attractive and— 

Okay, nope, that's too much honesty. 

Gus goes back to watching the security footage. 

It's well past midnight by the time they finally return to the honeymoon suite. The blankets are rumpled and their bags have been shoved out of sight, into the room's puny closet. Gus barely has the energy to get changed into his pajamas and brush his teeth. And when he comes out of the bathroom and remembers that there's _only one bed_... well. 

Shawn is already asleep on the left side of the bed, facing away from the light spilling out of the bathroom. Since he's already asleep, Gus can just slip under the covers next to him without it being at all awkward. It's fine. They've shared a bed before. Not since they were young, but this isn't much different. And unlike earlier, there's not a crowd of people watching to see how he and Shawn handle it. No one but Shawn to pick out Gus' nerves, and Shawn isn't even awake. 

* * *

Gus wakes up with Shawn sprawled on top of him. Shawn's hair tickling the bottom of his chin. Shawn's slow, steady breaths puffing across his neck, getting caught in the hollow where his neck and his collarbone meet. 

He shoves Shawn off of him and slides out of bed all in the same motion, scrambling into the bathroom for a shower before Shawn stirs fully. The shower is beautiful, and separate from the large jetted tub, and Gus takes a long, long time under the multiple showerheads to gain his composure again. 

Sharing body heat with someone when he wasn't used to it, that was bound to... stir things up, of course. But Shawn is his best friend, and this marriage is just to help them solve the case. Shawn his his best friend, and _isn't_ psychic, but Shawn is laying wide awake in the other room on a bed they'd shared and when Gus is done in here it will be Shawn's turn. 

If Gus touches himself, Shawn will probably know. Somehow. Safer to abstain, even though he _wouldn't_ be thinking about Shawn. 

He washes himself, he turns the water a little colder, he gets ready for the day, and he harrasses Shawn out of his blanket cocoon and into the bathroom because Gus is starving. Everything is normal, or as normal as it could possibly be. 

Breakfast turns out to be waffles made to order by a chef at the waffle bar. Gus and Shawn argue about the perfect waffle shape and distribution of toppings while they wait in line, but the disagreement peters out while they're waiting for the waffles to cook, at which point Gus makes the mistake of checking his phone and Shawn therefore feels free to start making friends with everyone who's also waiting for their waffles, even though these strangers probably don't want to be bothered. Especially the ones who have very obviously not had any coffee yet. 

"I'm a psychic," Shawn tells one woman. "You may have seen me in the — oh, no, my mistake." He gives a fake laugh. "I'm sensing that you're from Georgia, so you wouldn't read the local paper, would you?" 

"Oh, yes, I am!" the woman says, clapping her hands together. "I never bought into psychics, but I'll play along — what else can you sense?" 

Shawn brings a hand to his forehead and looks into the middle distance over the woman's shoulder. "Oh, I can sense some things very strongly," he says. He's probably thinking back to the footage they saw last night of this woman checking in. "I'm sensing... you're not here with your husband." 

"That's right," says the woman, shamelessly. 

There's a nervous, slightly shocked tittering from the crowd. 

"You're here..." Shawn casts his eyes around and then points to a young woman piling sliced strawberries onto a freshly-steaming waffle at the waffle bar. "...with your daughter! Looking at UC Santa Barbara? That's quite a big step. Equestrian scholarship? You picked this resort so she could practice her riding before her tryouts." 

Shocked and clearly impressed, the woman nods. "Yes, that's — that's Faith, my oldest, she's so _good_ on her horse. On any horse!" 

"I'm sure she'll do wonderfully, the spirits are being quite clear about that," Shawn says, although Gus is absolutely certain that Shawn is sure of no such thing. 

For all they know the woman's daughter can't actually even ride a horse. 

But there's a scattered applause and someone else steps up to be cold-read and before Gus knows it he and Shawn are eating with a crowd of people, all of them hanging on Shawn's every word. 

The waffles are perfect and Gus does like watching Shawn do his thing, but he can't help but tune Shawn's antics out, looking out the large picture window of the ranch's breakfast room. The beach is below, empty of guests for the moment, the beachside bar shuttered because it's still about seven in the morning. 

It would have been nice to talk to Shawn over breakfast, is all. They hadn't really discussed what Shawn had learned from the security tapes the night before, and now Gus won't have a chance to find out until filming is done for the day. 

* * *

The production assistant who comes to collect them from breakfast herds them first to their room to drop off all of their valuables and then down to a large van. Shawn and Gus are each sat next to their respective makeup artists, who quickly give them a little foundation as the van careens along the short to a small marina. 

Tessa is waiting there when they arrive, and Miriah as well. They're mic'd up, shown where to stand — with the docks and the ocean in the background — and then the camera starts rolling. 

"Welcome back to _Last Look at Love_ ," Tessa says. "I'm your host, Tessa Copeland, and we're about to see Gus and Shawn go on their first date in a long, long time. Are you guys nervous?" 

"I don't know the meaning of that word," Shawn says. 

Gus shoves an elbow into Shawn's side. "Uh, I am. Mostly because I'm not even sure what we're about to do. No one gave us an itinerary." Gus hopes it's not fishing. Anything but fishing. 

"Spontaneity is important to rekindling a romance," Tessa says. "Now! Why don't you two go get suited up?" 

Okay, not fishing. Gus is hustled straight to a changing room, separate from Shawn, where there's a diving suit waiting for him. A _diving_ suit. 

"You're not filming us taking lessons, are you?" he asks Miriah after she's shot several angles of him and Shawn exiting the changing room and reacting to each other. 

Miriah, who's tapping out some kind of note to herself on her phone, doesn't even look up. "Shawn said you took a college class in it and have kept your certification up." 

Although Gus has never actually _told_ Shawn about his diving certification, it _is_ true. Gus wanders away to leave Miriah to her business. The only other thing to focus on, unfortunately, is the way Shawn is _lounging_ on the boat that's going to take them to their diving location. 

He looks good. Really good. Comfortable, and relaxed, and the diving suit is absolutely pasted to his body. Gus is confident enough in his own body to know that diving suits are a great look for _him_ , but on Shawn it's something else entirely. Something very, _very_ unfair. 

"What do you think, Gus?" Shawn asks, stretching a little farther. "I've heard black is slimming." 

"Don't make this weird, Shawn," Gus says, and shoves his legs off the bench so that there's room to sit instead of just standing around gawking at Shawn. "Can you even do this?" 

"How hard could it be?" Shawn asks rhetorically, and then he must see how Gus feels about _that_ kind of attitude to plunging under the ocean and adds, "Okay, alright, yes, I can. I've taught diving to tourists on three separate occasions." 

"Really?" Gus asks suspiciously, because he doesn't remember those jobs. 

"Yeah, there are resorts out there that'll let anyone teach anything," Shawn says. "But no one drowned, so I must have been okay at it, right? We'll be fine." 

And they are, miraculously, fine. The boat takes them out to the Channel Islands, where they plunge into the ocean and explore a kelp forest. Shawn nearly gets savaged by a lobster, which Gus hopes makes it onto national television, and on the boat ride back Shawn lays his hand on top of Gus', even though the cameras probably aren't even on. His thumb sweeps across Gus' knuckles. 

He's probably just... practicing. For the camera. To sell their undercover thing. 

"You have the rest of the afternoon free to spend time at the resort, but be in the main lobby at 6:30," a PA tells them when they get into the van at the marina. He's hunched over his Blackberry and making furious notes on a day planner. "Don't be late." 

At least they have _some_ time to themselves. 

Shawn decides that they _have_ to enjoy the private beach, especially because any drinks or food they order will be covered for them. Gus doesn't like the idea of taking advantage, but he _is_ starving and they've been explicitly asked not to leave the resort, so it's really the production company's own fault that he has to order a ludicrously expensive meal and eat it while sitting on a lounge chair next to Shawn. 

"This was a good idea," Shawn says when he's polished off his second drink from the beachside bar. "I have the best ideas." 

Gus really can't argue with that. 

* * *

What Gus _can_ argue with, however, is being lead from the lobby straight to the resort's stables, where there are two massive white horses waiting for him and Shawn. "Uh, no," he says. "No. I don't do horses. No way." 

"Aw, Gus," Shawn says. "Look at this face. He wants to be your friend." He's already practically cuddling the head of one of the horses. And maybe feeding it something — his hand is being licked quite a bit. 

"He can be my friend from over there," Gus asserts. 

Miriah starts to explain that Gus getting on the horse is required for the romantic, picturesque horse ride to the romantic, secluded picnic dinner they've set up for him and Shawn to share. Because for _some_ reason they've actually laid the thing out in a place you _can't_ drive to. It _has_ to be horses, she stresses. 

"Nope," Gus says very simply. "This isn't happening. This isn't happening, and no one can make me." 

"No one's going to _make you_ ," Shawn asserts, immediately, speaking over whatever Miriah was going to say. "I'm... definitely sensing the picnic location is by the water, and you were planning to get there by boat before us." Apparently Shawn had had time to snoop out the production crew's boat rental. 

Miriah nods, and looks both confused and stressed, although not as stressed as when they'd met her. 

"We'll just also take a boat. No horses necessary." Shawn pats the nose of the horse he'd been cuddling up to in apology. 

"There's no time to charter a second boat," Miriah says, though there's already a flurry of PAs behind her consulting each other on where they might be able to get a suitable boat on such short notice and how much it will cost. 

Shawn looks delighted to say, "Don't worry! I know a guy." 

* * *

They're climbing into the boat when Shawn's dad arrives, kind of bullying his way past the camera crew that's set up to film Gus and Shawn setting off to the picnic location. "Shawn, what in the hell are you doing?" Henry asks, when he's finally made it through the throng of lights and cables and production assistants. 

"You came!" Shawn cries. "Even though I said it was fine and we didn't need the boat for long." He carefully nudges Gus towards the boat and Gus takes the hint, climbing fully on board. Shawn quickly follows. 

"Yes, Shawn, I came, because half the time you borrow my boat you end up getting shot at or something." Henry pauses, and then waves an exasperated arm at the camera that's moved into position to cover this confrontation as best as possible. "What the hell is _this?_ Did you go ahead with that harebrained scheme to get a psychic TV show? Because I told you, Shawn—" 

"Dad, please, I'm trying to see if my marriage to Gus could work out and you're ruining our romantic date." 

Henry sputters. "Your what?" 

Gus has untied the rope keeping the boat at the dock. Shawn starts the engine. He eases the boat away from the dock. 

"I didn't know how to tell you," Shawn says. "I'll call you later. Maybe. Thanks!" 

They get away clean, steering out of the marina carefully, and the boat containing the camera crew joins them a few minutes later. 

The sun is setting when they dock the boat on a beach even more pristine than the private resort beach he and Shawn had spent a good deal of the afternoon lazing around on. There's a white gazebo sitting at the top of the dunes. It's decorated with flowers and has a candle-lit table sitting in the center with carefully arranged chairs, well-hidden camera crew, and an unobtrusively located string quartet. There are conversation prompting cards on the table, which Gus is relieved about; he's feeling unusually tongue-tied. 

Maybe because real people don't have dinners like this. Maybe because Shawn looks good lit by a mix of sunset and candlelight. Maybe because not only is Gus uncomfortable, but there are certainly cameras capturing his uncomfortableness for posterity. 

A dinner like this wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the camera crew, though. 

* * *

A bone-deep exhaustion hit Gus as soon as they got in the boat, and by the time the boat is back to its usual docking space, Gus' fingers can only clumsily, ineffectually fumble to tie the boat off. Just when he's about to give up and ask Shawn to do it, he finds the rope gently pried from his hands. 

"Let me do it, Guster," Henry Spencer says. 

Has he been waiting here since before they went to dinner? 

Gus watches Henry and Shawn work together to secure the boat for a few minutes, and then belated realizes that the tension in the air is because Henry is waiting to talk to Shawn. Alone. "I'll give Shawn a ride back," Henry promises. 

So Gus scuttles off the boat, into the shuttle van that will take him back to Morningside Ranch. The honeymoon suite is cool from the resort's AC. A maid has come by and made the bed. It's still a little strange to think about sharing the bed with Shawn — with anyone — but it looks _so_ inviting. 

He's single-minded in his pursuit of sleep. 

Eventually, the bed dips with Shawn's body weight.Eventually, Shawn pulls back the covers and tugs and shifts around to get comfortable, and Gus only stirs awake long enough to notice that their arms brush and their feet tangle. 

He likes that, he decides. He likes knowing where Shawn is. 

* * *

A knock to the honeymoon suite's door wakes Gus. 

Just from the level of light in the room, Gus can tell it's much later than he usually would have slept — what happened to his alarm? — and he dreads whatever is on the other side of the door. Probably some poor production assistant sent to rouse him and Shawn and get them to whatever it was that Miriah had said was on the agenda for the day. Some kind of tour? 

Just as Gus prepares to lever himself out of bed and find out, a hand lands on his shoulder. "It's okay," Shawn says. "I'll get it." 

Gus rolls onto his back just in time to catch sight of Shawn folding away a newspaper and sliding out of bed. He's wearing a pair of pineapple-patterned sweatpants Gus had bought him, and his hair is still wild and tousled. 

Also he's not wearing a shirt, but Gus definitely makes sure _not_ to trace his eyes up the curve of his spine, or admire Shawn's shoulder blades, or note how low the pants sit on his hips. No. None of that. Nope. 

What Gus is definitely actually focused on is the identity of the person on the other side of the door — which turns out not to be a production assistant, but instead a waiter pushing a cart. A cart with _breakfast_. 

It's all offloaded onto a table across the room. The waiter is tipped and leaves. Gus sits up and Shawn brings over one of those breakfast-in-bed trays, the ones with little legs. There's pancakes, eggs with bacon, a small bowl of fruit, and even a gently steaming cup of coffee. Gus has never had breakfast in bed before. 

"I could get used to this," Gus says. He's looking at the breakfast tray in front of him, marveling that the over-easy eggs are exactly the way he likes them. 

"Yeah," Shawn says before he goes back across the room to get his own breakfast tray. "Me, too." 

* * *

Once Gus pries himself out of bed and gets dressed, he learns that the agenda for the day is a long and winding wine tour across the Santa Barbara countryside. Gus has been on several wine tours before — here, in Napa, and once even in upstate New York — so he's expecting the experience to be familiar. A van full of fellow tourists, a tour guide, and maybe three or four stops. 

Instead, there's a limo. One of the smaller ones, the kind that could fit 5-7 people. 

"Sweet," Shaun says when the driver pops the door open for them. 

"You don't even like wine." Gus climbs in after him, sliding across the bench along the far side of the limo so he can join Shawn in the two front-facing seats in the back. Their shoulders are pressed together and their knees brush any time either of them moves, but Gus feels like it's the right seat to take. It would be weird to purposefully sit as far away from Shawn as possible. 

"Yeah, but _you_ like wine," Shawn shoots back. He also stretches out his arm and rests it across the seat behind Gus. 

Conveniently, this new position does give Gus' shoulders more room, but it also means that Shawn's arm presses up against the back of Gus' neck. A shiver crawls up Gus' spine... probably because they're sitting right under a vent. Yes. Definitely that. 

"Today's the last day, so let's really sell it, right?" Shawn adds. "This has to be the best episode of _Love's Labour's Lost_ ever." Shawn is maybe... leaning in a little. Exploring Gus' personal space. 

" _Love's Labour's Lost_ is a Shakespeare play," Gus says. "The show is called _Last Look at Love_." Easier to focus on that than on wondering what 'selling it' will entail. 

"Close enough," Shawn claims. 

When they emerge from the limo at the first winery, Shawn sticks close to Gus' side. The warmth of his hand on Gus' shoulder while they taste their first glass of wine is... comfortable. It helps Gus ignore the camera, and as Gus relaxes into it Shawn worms more and more into his personal space. 

It's not... _bad_. It's just _different_. It makes Gus' stomach twist, having Shawn smile and laugh and rest a hand on his hip. And the way the tour is arranged doesn't help much either — rather than eating lunch he and Shawn are treated to a wide variety of small, carefully prepared appetizers paired with wine. He and Shawn are often bid to split a serving of something, eating off the same plate if not the same fork. 

Like sleeping in the same bed, it's not something he and Shawn have done for a long, long time. 

On the way back to the limo after their third winery stop, they pause to look at the sun beating down on a large expanse of perfectly-arranged lines of trellises. Gus is acutely aware of the camera at their back and even _more_ aware of the way Shawn winds arms around his chest and leans into Gus' personal space like it's perfectly natural. 

Gus has fun, if he's being honest, but he has to wonder... is he enjoying it too much? Will this make things harder later? They're going to have to explain that they were undercover to everyone, and the better they sell the part the harder that will be. So he has to ask, "Shawn, maybe we should tone it down?" 

"Tone what down?" Shawn asks, and grasps Gus' hand to drag him bodily, stumbling, towards the limo. 

It's no use arguing with him, Gus figures. Shawn will do what Shawn does. 

* * *

On their way to the last tasting of the day, they have to beg, shout, and threaten their driver to prevent the limo from turning down the long gravel drive to the winery Mira's parents own. Miriah has a small, well-deserved fit — she's right, Gus thinks, that they _probably_ should have said something about Mira when they realized that there'd be a wine tour — and then at the last minute someone pulls through with a new tasting for them to go to. 

At a local distillery. 

The tasting room has a magnificent few over the Santa Ynez Valley: winding roads and vinyards and in the background a line of mountains sculpted like perfect, soft waves. They're served whiskey and vodka. They're served limoncello and gin. It's all served straight, without even ice, because distilleries aren't allowed to serve anything but their own product, not even simple mixers. 

After a late morning and long afternoon of wine after wine, the spirits are a welcome sharper, bolder taste, but the alcohol all goes to Gus' head, and there's nothing to eat with it, either. By the time Gus and Shawn are back in the limo, they're both well past tipsy, half-crawling over each other to take their usual seats and giggling when they get tangled up. 

The inside of the limo is chill and dark. Shawn puts his arm across the back of the seat again. It's kind of like their senior prom, except it's a nicer limo and there aren't any girls. Gus... kind of likes that there aren't any girls. It means Shawn only focuses on him. It means Gus only has to focus on Shawn. 

Gus leans his head on Shawn's shoulder. He pats Shawn's chest. 

The long ride back to the resort is a chance to sober up a little, and prime napping time, but even when Gus lifts his head off of Shawn's shoulder to find they've pulled up at the resort he's still drunk enough that he fumbles the keycard to get back into their room, and stumbles a little over Shawn as they enter. 

Everything feels light and airy and comfortable. Shawn orders them room service for dinner while Gus collapses onto the love seat and watches him. Gus can feel every place Shawn has touched him today still warm and lit up. By the end of the tour Shawn had progressed to casually wrapping an arm around Gus' back and resting a hand on Gus' opposite hip, and it had been — Gus had felt — Gus had probably better stop thinking about it. Better to focus on deciding what he wants from room service. 

* * *

"Have you," Gus asks, stumbling over the words, "have you solved it?" 

They're sitting up against the headboard of the bed, their meal laying finished on the table across the room. Gus had gotten it into his head to change for bed ahead of time at some point, and then promptly become distracted, so he's maybe not wearing pants anymore, just boxers and button-down, but it's not time to focus on _that_. It's time to focus on crime. Crime and murder. 

"Solved what?" Shawn asks. 

"The Abbots," Gus prompts. 

"Oh, that." Shawn waves a hand carelessly. "Jules will figure that out." He pauses. "Lassie might help." 

"We're supposed to be investigating," Gus reminds him, although he can't drum up much urgency. 

Shawn remains quiet. Gus considers trying to pick the conversation back up, maybe prompt Shawn into figuring out who the killer is, but... it isn't as if they'd get anything done tonight. The bed is too comfortable. Shawn is too warm against his side. In the morning, filming for _Last Look at Love_ will be over, and he and Shawn can investigate as normal. 

Gus slides down the headboard a little until he can lean his head over and rest it on Shawn's shoulder. His eyelids are heavy, pressing closed for long moments even though it's so early in the evening that going to sleep now feels like it would be a waste of their last evening at the resort. He wants to ask Shawn if they can turn the TV on, maybe watch a movie, but he thinks Shawn is maybe already asleep. 

So the silence lingers, instead, and all Gus can do is think. 

He thinks about getting under the covers, because one side of him is warm from Shawn's body heat and the other is cool from the AC in the room, but decides against it because moving would be too much work and would probably wake Shawn up. 

He thinks about how Shawn's casual touches have become familiar over the weekend, until Gus had come to expect them. Until Gus had started reaching back, and not only when the cameras were on. 

He thinks about how very much he's wanted, in the past, when he and Shawn were standing just a little too close, to lean in and kiss him. One summer in high school he came back from debate camp to find he'd had a growth spurt and Shawn hadn't, and he'd spent all of September and most of October thinking about just leaning down and kissing Shawn, wrecking his life just to get it over with. Just to have everything out there in the open. 

And now that feeling comes back over him, stronger than ever — they're at entirely the wrong angle for it and Shawn's caught up with him in height and they've just been _pretending_ to be married, but Gus could do it. Shawn is right there. Gus would just have to roll over and support himself on one hand. Maybe he wouldn't even wake Shawn up. Leaning in, so close, closer and closer until it's as close as they've even been and there's no more room for doubt between them. Just Gus' lips on Shawn's, discovering that it's really not different from kissing a woman at all, that it lights bright sparks in Gus' stomach, that Shawn's eyes flutter open and then they're undressing and then they're _naked_ and _then—_

—and then Shawn says, "Gus, hey, Gus, buddy, you with me?" and shakes his shoulder until Gus picks his head up to look at Shawn. 

"How much do you think one of those breakfast-in-bed trays costs?" Shawn asks him, urgently. 

Gus manages a very intelligent sort of, "Wha?" sound as he struggles to collect his brain cells and not think about the trajectory of the dream he's just had. 

"I think we should get one," Shawn adds. "Not just for breakfast, we don't have to be constrained by society." 

"Shawn—" 

"Dessert in bed could be a thing. Don't lie to me, Gus, this is a good idea, you can admit it." 

"Shawn, we both live alone," Gus finally gets out. "What's the point if you have to get your own breakfast in bed?" 

"Right," Shawn says quietly. His eyes drift down. Gus' dream-addled mind imagines maybe he's looking at Gus' lips, but really, why would he? 

Gus is just tired. Too tired. He says, "We should go to bed." 

"Yeah," Shawn says, and maybe he sounds disappointed, but Gus is already squirming down in the bed, eyes closed, chasing the dream he'd been woken up from. 

* * *

Breakfast the last morning at the resort isn't eaten in bed. It isn't even eaten with Shawn at all — when Gus wakes up, the room is empty. He eats breakfast alone, and feels strangely off-kilter. 

He would have expected that some time to himself after several days straight would be a relief, but instead it just feels strange. Lonely. 

In the makeup room at the studio, Gus gets made up next to Tessa. She's clearly been there longer than Gus, because they do much more than just even her skin a little and make sure her pores won't show up on camera, but she sits through it completely still. Unlike Gus, who has to fight not to fidget and twitch. Apparently it makes it harder to apply foundation if you scrunch your whole face up. 

"Nervous?" Tessa asks him. 

"About what?" Gus asks. 

She smiles at him. "It'll be okay. Just forget the camera is there and be honest." 

Unnerved and a little confused, Gus leaves the room as soon as his make up is done. Then there's nothing to do but stay out of the way while the studio is set up for the big "Love Or Leave?" end scene, which Gus is desperate not to think about. 

There's nothing to even be honest about. 

He tries to call Shawn's cellphone again, but gets no answer. 

* * *

Just as Gus is starting to worry Miriah is beginning to hyperventilate because Shawn is still MIA even though the show is suppose to start broadcasting live in about 15 minutes, several cars roll up to the studio. Juliet is driving one of them with Shawn in the passenger seat clutching some kind of box, and the other car is Lassiter's, with an extremely grumpy head detective included free of charge. 

"I woke up this morning with some _serious_ vibes," Shawn announces to everyone when he gets out of the car. 

"This had better be worth it," Lassiter grumbles. 

From inside the studio someone calls that it's time for filming to start. 

"Here, Gus, we'll need this." Shawn shoves the box into Gus' arms. It's one of those breakfast-in-bed trays. 

It might even, Gus thinks, be _exactly_ the model the resort had used yesterday. The thought stops him in his tracks. 

"Gus, they're waiting for us! You can open it later," Shawn says as a stray makeup artist starts attacking Shawn's face with the bare basics to make him presentable for the camera. 

* * *

The inside of the studio has a live audience again including, for some reason, Henry, who's sitting in the middle of the front row with his arms crossed. Lassiter flashes his badge at the two women sitting next to Henry so he and Juliet can have their seat. Normally Gus would feel bad about them getting kicked out, but both of them are wearing neon shirts that read CHAD, LET ME HAVE YOUR BABY!, so the ambiance of the room is really improved without them. 

Speaking of the ambiance: the stage has been split in three parts. On the left, there's a shell of a starkly-lit wood-panelled room, with law books on the back shelves and a single set of paperwork laid out on a solid wood table. On the right, there's a church with stucco and stained glass windows and fake wood beams across the ceiling. It has two rows of two-seat pews and a priest standing under an arch decorated with white flowers. 

In the center there's a raised platform where Tessa is standing, addressing the audience. 

"Welcome to _Last Look at Love_!" Tessa says as the house lights go dark. The audience cheers and claps, and then when they settle down Tessa launches into a short summary of the past few days while a video montage plays behind her. 

Him and Shawn at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, their heads leaned close together in some unheard conversation. Shawn leaning against him while they look out over a vineyard. The both of them harassing each other underwater — and Gus making fun of him as they climb back onto the boat after their dive, pinching his hands at Shawn like a lobster. 

It's soundless, and some of the footage is from times when Gus hadn't even realized they were on camera, and all of it is painfully, blatantly romantic. The Gus on the screen can't take his eyes off of Shawn. The Gus on the screen leans into every one of Shawn's touches, and frowns when Shawn pulls away. 

Shawn might be that good of an actor, but Gus definitely isn't. 

The video winds down. Miriah, standing behind the cameras but in front of the audience, looks almost too relieved for words when she sees Shawn. She gives the thumbs up to the production control room and someone else starts a count down to the start of the live broadcast while Gus and Shawn are herded onto the stage to sit on a couch for the exit-interview portion of the show. 

Shawn physically waves away the PA that tries to take the breakfast tray box away from Gus. 

"Wow," Tessa says, when the video ends. "That was quite the weekend! And you even have some support in the audience — your father and two co-workers!" 

One of the camera swings around to focus on Henry, Juliet, and Lassiter. Henry, arms still crossed, stares forward without acknowledging that he's been mentioned. Juliet waves politely at the camera. Lassiter rolls his eyes and sneers.. but also waves. With a hand that's holding a pair of handcuffs. 

If Shawn's not lucky, he's going to get type-cast as Guy Who Accuses People Of Murder On Live Television. 

"How are you two feeling, after spending so much time together?" Tessa asks when the cameras are on them again. She looks at Gus first. 

"Tired," he says. 

Just tired?" she prods. She glances at Shawn. "Nothing else?" 

Gus swallows and clutches the box to his chest harder. "Nervous?" Hopefully that's honest enough for her, because Gus might die if he has to go into any more depth about his feelings for Shawn on _live television_. 

"And how about you, Shawn? Are you nervous? Tell us how you're feeling." 

Shawn raises a hand to his head. "But right now I'm feeling... like I'm about to solve a _murder_." 

The crowd gasps. Henry throws his arms up in the air like he's giving up on Shawn. " _Hopeless_ ," Gus can hear him complain to Juliet over the mummer of the crowd. Juliet pats his arm sympathetically. 

Meanwhile, Tessa... Tessa is looking nervous. "A murder?" she says nervously. Her back is ramrod-straight. Her eyes keep flicking to look at Lassiter and Jules. 

To Gus's surprise, Shawn skips the theatrics and cries out, "It was _you!_ " while jumping up off the couch and flinging out an accusatory finger at Tessa. 

Several _Explosión Gigantesca de Romance_ fans in the audience cheer and swoon, although Shawn has left off the accent. 

"Her, really?" Lassiter calls as he climbs out of his seat in the audience. Juliet follows, and Gus reluctantly climbs to his feet as well. 

Shawn says: "She was having an affair with Neil Abbot. Under her _real_ name, Ashley Baldwin!" 

This is news to Gus. Maybe Shawn only worked it out that morning. 

Lassiter prowls onto the stage. His handcuffs flash under the studio lights. "The girlfriend," he growls. "No wonder we couldn't find you." 

"You'll never prove it!" Tessa spits, which is on-par with shouting 'I did it!' 

"I'm sensing that the proof is in the resort security tapes!" Shawn says. He's raised his other hand to his temple. "Yes! You were there! I can see it _so_ clearly! Your face isn't visible on the cameras, but you—" Shawn sticks a hand out and wobbles it back and forth, quickly. "—you were so shaken after what you did, you dropped your keys down a grate in the parking lot! Jack the waiter, he saw your face! He helped you get the keys! _He_ can confirm you were there that night!" Shawn collapses dramatically onto the couch they're supposed to be sitting on, as if all his energy is spent. 

Everything is silent for a moment. 

"He broke up with me," Tessa says, suddenly, her face twisting from rage to despair. " _Me_. Just for a _chance_ to get back together with that—that—" 

Shawn waves an exhausted hand at Gus, indicating that he should take this round. 

"That woman he loved?" Gus asks. 

"Nice," Shawn says. 

They bump fists. Gus finally feels like _something_ is normal between them, and like maybe things will be fine. 

Lassiter slaps the cuffs on Tessa and leads her off the stage, and Juliet gives Shawn a big thumbs up. Henry, still sitting in the audience, has crossed his arms back over his chest. 

The show is now down a host, so there's an extremely awkward pause where the only sound is the audience gossiping furiously about what they just saw. The show has to go to commercial while Miriah and one of the producers have an extremely quick debate about if they should finish the show or what. 

The producer gives into Miriah's demands just before the commercial break ends. She divests herself of her lanyard and keys and wireless monitor to step in front of the camera and gesture for the audience to quiet down. 

"Wow, okay," she says. "That was... explosive!" She makes fists with her hands and pops her fingers out suddenly when she says 'explosive'. "But we still have an episode of _Last Look at Love_ to wrap up, right? What to you say, folks?" 

The crowd cheers. The house lights go off, and so do the lights on either side of the stage, leaving only the raised dais illuminated. Two unlit neon signs are lowered from the ceiling to hang over the steps down to the two sides of the stage — one says **LOVE** and the other says **LEAVE**. Shawn is encouraged to stand up and the couch where they were supposed to have their post-weekend interview is rolled away off into the darkness, leaving just the three of them standing in a pool of light. 

"So," Mariah says, "what'll it be? Will you leave... or will you love?" 

The neon **LEAVE** and **LOVE** signs start blinking rapidly back and forth, sending colored light flicking across the stage. 

She looks at Gus first. Why does everyone look at Gus first? The entire studio is quiet, like everyone's holding their breath. 

"I'm going to..." Gus glances at the **LEAVE** sign. "I—" 

"Wait!" Shawn says suddenly. "Gus. What I was trying to say last night—the reason we needed—" Shawn gestures at the box Gus is still holding. 

Gus has to shift his grip on it so that they can get a shot of the front of the box. 

"Gus, I'll make you breakfast," Shawn says, a little anticlimactically, inching into Gus' personal space. "I'll choose love," he clarifies, and all of the air goes out of the room. 

"Oh my god," Henry says from the audience. Gus can barely hear him over the roar of blood in his ears and the sappy encouragement from the audience. 

Gus drops the box to the floor. 

" _Gus_ ," Shawn says, in a heart-wrenching tone, but he doesn't get to finish whatever it's going to say because Gus has dragged him into a kiss. 

Their first real kiss, a kiss that feels like Gus' first kiss all over again. Where do his hands go? What should his tongue be doing? Is it enough to just want to grab on to Shawn and never let go? 

It is enough. It will have to be. 

The crowd is going wild when Gus pulls away. Shawn is breathing hard. He looks just as stunned as Gus feels. The **LOVE** sign is lit, the chapel is lit up. Miriah hustles over to the priest, where they're supposed to renew wedding vows that they never made. 

All Gus can think to say is, "You're _never_ going to really make me breakfast, are you?" 

"I so will," Shawn says. "Definitely at least once. How do you feel about frozen breakfast burritos? Or eggos? Dry toast?" 

Gus kisses him again. 


End file.
